It Ain't the Dead
by JinxedSydney
Summary: Series Finale (Eden) spoilers. It wasn't a city of the dead, although they hovered around the edges of her mind.
1. Chapter 1

*insert disclaimer that here...no, I don't own them...yes, it was a good show...*

* * *

The wipers pushed the rain back and forth, back and forth. She passed the Larsen garage, the construction site where Kallie had crawled into the cement culverts, Jack's school, Reggie's dock, ghosts of the past riding shotgun in her rental car. Biltmore Pier tugged her off of the pavement to stare up at the bridge where she had come to him and the pier where he had come to her; neither rescuing the other but finding salvation in their partner. Instinctively, Sarah's hand sought her jacket pocket and curled around the brass casing, her talisman that had led her to Holder earlier in the day. Daily, weekly, month by month, the metal token mocked the former detective when she ran from city to city, job after job, reminding that she did not belong anywhere.

Years spent shifting. Uncountable days clutching the casing as she drifted off to sleep in her car or some cheap motel. Jack had finally stopped asking about Holder a few years back and that fact alone had allowed the idea to creep like the morning Seattle fog, settling into the deepest parts of her mind. Every city revealed Holder; the vegan ordering at a diner, the runaways dragging on their cigarettes, the tall, loping figure that made her question if he had found her…maybe, just maybe.

Half a dozen times, she had put her hands on the keys to drive away that morning before she chided her ridiculousness and sat on the planter to wait. The community center was tagged and it reminded her of his collection of tattoos. Sarah could see the storm approaching and hoped that Holder would come out soon. She worried her lip with her teeth; more than anything, she just needed him to understand how sorry she was. He deserved that. No, he deserved more than that but Sarah was less than that to him.

That slow, Cheshire grin preceded the drawl. "Oh snap! One nine-hundred Linden. Dial and you shall receive."

Turning back onto the pavement, the rain stopped, grey skies darkening as the day raced to expire. She had never intended to say that…to admit that he was her home. All she had wanted to do was apologize until those honest eyes looked down at her and her deepest, most precious secret tumbled from her lips, sincere and unbidden. "I think that was everything," Sarah admitted before remembering her reason for coming.

"It ain't ghosts, Linden. It ain't the dead." Her mind was screaming, howling for her to run. She was good at running and her apology had been presented. And when Holder meekly offered, "Bye," Sarah ran.

Finding the city spread out before her, across the bay, the saltwater smell was comforting. It wasn't a city of the dead, although they hovered around in the fringes of her mind. They would always be there, but he had been standing in front of her, asking her to stay. Holder hadn't fought her, hadn't begged her to reconsider because he knew she would go no matter what he said. Sarah knew that she would mess it up between them if she went back.

But she also knew that she would stay. They would screw it up together, fall apart together and regroup. Hope…it had been such a long time since she felt hope.

Again, her hands danced with the keys in the ignition, inner demons waging war on the fledgling aspiration. Across the street, the door opened again, having just ejected the previous meeting, and Holder locked the door. He never broke eye contact, not once, hands in his pockets, mirroring her own. That smile…that was home.


	2. Chapter 2

I had intended this to be a one-shot, from Linden's POV only, but Holder nagged at my brain. While chiefly foregoing the lovable Holderisms, here is Holder's POV. Enjoy!

* * *

Jose needed to read first; that cat was always skirting the edges. Let him find his nerves on an end of a cigarette, Holder reasoned. Jose wasn't going to get out of fessing up this time.

A specter, a chimera with a slash of blue at her neck; she stood, toes pointed to each other, the illusive smile spreading, hands jammed in her oversized jacket. "Oh snap! One nine-hundred Linden. Dial and you shall receive."

Linden had fallen on her sword, recusing him of any involvement. She had slid Reddick's pack to her right and Holder knew that she would never touch cigarettes again. Defeated, she pulled on her jacket, back to the two way mirror. His chest ached and he bounced his leg to keep the tears back when his partner turned and stepped in front of him…silently apologizing…broken. Then she left. Linden was good at running away. Sayonara, Ginger.

He had tried to be the good man, the textbook fiancé that Caroline deserved but never was privy to as Stephen wrestled with nonexistence. Ignoring the incessant, silent nagging, the recovering junkie took a ferry to the island and parked in front of the empty house; as vacant as his soul that wanted to scream in her face for _ever_ doubting his loyalty. As the indifferent weeks passed, every flash of red hair, Holder felt his heart stutter. Anger morphed into the kind of implicit craving that only an addict could appreciate.

"Why'd you come back?" It wasn't that he didn't want to see her; Holder had only known more joy on the day Kalia was born. Linden had conquered her own demons, as he did. At her hesitation, Holder saw her confront their past. Once the deluge started, Linden called him home. No, she called _them_ home; together, home. He found it hard to swallow, let alone speak, as the tears crowded the corners of her eyes. It made sense…they made sense.

"I'm sorry." Drowning in regret, her voice cracked and Holder felt his chest ache again, his lungs struggling to pull in the air. Mind racing as Linden continued, her best friend came up with the only solution that he could, to stay where she belonged.

Holder felt his heart stitch itself back together when he held his baby girl for the first time. Caroline knew by then and did her best to forgive him. His little goddess, with ten perfect toes and ten long fingers, became his center of gravity. The squalling, then crawling, toddling and skipping princess gave Holder devotion, faith.

Twelve previously mindless steps became his tow rope; Kalia grow up with a junkie for a daddy. His first tattoo celebrated his personal goddess. The second, on the opposite wrist, wings around a heart and a reminder of faith in himself and the past. Reborn into life, Holder embraced his job at the community center that Caroline had suggested. A new apartment, closer for visitations and with a second bedroom, Holder felt relieved the day that Caroline told him that she had found someone new; like he let go of a breath that he didn't know that he had been holding.

Linden faltered at his offer and Holder knew she had already bolted in her mind. But, god, how he tried, like an addict begging for a fix. "It ain't ghosts, Linden. It ain't the dead." Still, his partner waned at the precipice of permanence. Stephen offered the one regret he had been denied when she disappeared before, knowing that nothing would stop her departure. She smelled good. She fit into his arms. "Bye." Maybe if he watched her drive away this time, the ache wouldn't take up constant residence.

Holder lamely nodded as Jose and the others rambled through their readings, his thoughts far away, reaching out over the city. In his mind's eye, he was slouched in the seat next to Linden, passing the police station, each offering a single finger salute. Her scent lingered on the lapel of his jacket and Holder inhaled deeply, as if it were the last hit of his life.

And then she was there; damn Linden with the blue scarf that was his beacon. Holder knew if he looked away, she would be vanish, so he anchored himself to those pale blue eyes…that lop-sided smile. That smile? That was for him.

Hook, line, and sinker he drifted towards his fix.

* * *

Author's footnote: I'm not sure I can do justice to continuing the story. The ending was perfect to me, just like their flawed characters. But who knows what the future will hold...


	3. Chapter 3

This lil' story won't leave my head, so here's another chapter from Linden's POV...

* * *

She waited for the quips, the banter, but he had plunked himself into the passenger seat of the rental car without a word. As her mind told her to literally walk away, Sarah found the desire to stay and win the battle. A pregnant silence filled the compact car and the tormented driver turned the keys in the ignition before her hand paused on the center shift. In a touch that was completely benign and simultaneously charged, his lanky hand covered hers, thumb stroking her pinky. Her eyes traveled to their hands and her heart stuttered. She would mess this up.

Linden couldn't count the times she had stood, head tipped back to look at her towering partner. She knew when she had parked the car in front of the community center again that this was an all-in situation and that Holder was already committed; he had asked her to stay. Twice. His kiss, unhurried and suggestive.

"I'm hungry. Wanna catch some dinner?" Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears as she looked to Holder to anchor her yearning to disappear.

"Sure thing, Kemosabe," the passenger crowed. "God, I hope you've made it past vending machines by now, Linden."

"Shut up," she laughed. "I'll have you know that I'm well versed in the language of ordering from menus." She caught her breath at that smile of his.

As she pulled the car into gear, Holder called out, "Hold up a sec." Suddenly invaded on her half of the compartment, Sarah found herself lost in a kiss that curled her toes inside her boots, mind scrambled. When he drew back, she brought her hand up to the prickly cheek as he explained, "I just wanted to do that again." Holder pushed himself back into his seat and added, "Cause you probably needed to differentiate if you were dreamin'."

Later situated across from each other in a vaguely familiar diner, plates of food deposited in front of them, Sarah's stomach flip flopped when Holder brushed his thumb against her knuckles. "So where did your nomadic wanderings take you?" Asked without a hint of malice or accusation, Holder glanced up at her as he shoveled his quite unvegetarian ham and egg scramble into his mouth. Eyebrows arched up after the first bite hit his taste buds and he added, "Oh, you've gotta try some of this, Linden."

Laughing at his ploy, she declined to speak and let her thoughts gather to answer his inquiry. Outside, the rain had started again. She had missed the rain, the Puget Sound and the incessant chatter of the man across the booth.

"Yo, come back to earth and at least eat." Stephen had reached over with his own fork and pinched a few of her fries from next to her sandwich. "These are delish."

Sarah forced herself to take a few bites of the pastrami on rye; the tempo of her chewing gave her mind solace as it struggled with the desire to bolt. Nothing in the world made more sense than to stay. Her insight had been there for years, haunting her, ignored and pushed aside for the momentum of running, preferring not to destroy the one person who would never betrayed her. And she had known, before Seattle was in the rearview mirror, that Holder didn't stab her in the back. Sarah knew that she had herself to blame and that guilt had kept her gas pedal down.

"Um, Chicago. Tennessee," she offered before nibbling a fry. Many miles before, Linden had realized that no matter where she went, she always longed to be with her mildly exasperating partner.

"Try again, Alex Trebec. You're mixing up your cities and states."

"Sometimes, I didn't even know," Linden muttered, using one fry to push the others around.

Holder glanced at his phone and swore softly as he dialed a number on the keypad. Sarah could hear the small voice on the other end yell, "Daddy!' and watched his face transform into sheer joy. She eavesdropped as Holder asked Kalia about her day at school and then said something about cupcakes before he hung up, still smiling at the phone.

"Where to, boss?" he asked as he stood, offering his hand to her. Linden dug in her pockets for money to leave on the table before she forced herself to relax and take his hand. The drifter wanted his hand; the future it offered, the hope, the taste of his lips. Holder held fast to her hand as they left the diner, his thumb pulled up, drawing slow circles on her palm.


	4. Chapter 4

His reaction was visceral; Holder let everything he had been holding back for years pour through his kiss - devotion, possibility, loyalty. Big hands secured on either side of Linden's face, his hope blossomed when her small fingers crept around his neck to pull him down, closer. If pressed, Stephen would not deny that he had wanted this, as he snaked a hand down to her waist and tugged her closer. When their lips separated, the partners smiled at one another before Linden pressed her ear to his chest. Holder lowered his head onto the hair of his favorite carrot top.

Feeling her body tense, the towering man pulled back and loped around to the other side of the car. No need to test her tenacity by pushing her when she had just triumphed in a wrestling match with her demons that still were nipping at her heels. Holder could see it in Linden's eyes, as she fiddled with the keys, blue eyes uneasily watching as he brushed her pinky with his thumb. He recognized the look, the collision against wave the panic.

"I'm hungry. Wanna catch some dinner?" Holder knew she had grabbed her fear by its proverbial cajones to get the sentence out. And her resolve made him smile. His red haired addiction within reach, he crowded her space, gut aching and demanding more. Stephen wanted there to be no doubt in Linden's mind that her future was riding shotgun next to her; his kiss chased her to breathlessness, pupils blown in dilation.

Her pale hand on his cheek had reminded Holder to apply the brakes to his craving; the last thing he wanted was to give her reason to run again. "I just wanted to do that again." Best to be honest. "Cause you probably needed to differentiate if you were dreamin'." Better to be cocky.

The car ride was silent, but Holder didn't care; he was with his ride. When the car jerked to a stop at the diner, Stephen resisted every bone in his body to jump over the center console again and kiss her. Too much, too quickly; there were baby steps going to be adhered to. So instead, he sat across from her and rubbed his thumb over the ridges of her knuckles after they had ordered.

"So where did your nomadic wanderings take you?" he asked nonchalantly, hoping she would take a deep breath in and spill it all out. Countless times, Holder had held his breath at the sight of an ugly, bulky sweater in the mall or a red headed jogger. There had been nights that he stared at the ceiling, wondering if Linden blamed him as much as he blamed himself.

Holder watched her turn her blue eyes to the window. And so he talked; Holder babbled about his job, the apartment he had moved to with a second bedroom, but mostly Kalia. Still, her mind galloped away into the rain. "Yo, come back to earth and at least eat."

While Linden chewed her pastrami sandwich, Holder could almost hear her internal debate: run, stay, run, stay, run…run…run. Lamely, she threw out some locations. "Try again, Alex Trebec. You're mixing up your cities and states." How many places had she been to just toss those out? His heart broke a little more when he realized that while he stayed in Seattle to find himself, she roamed the country to lose herself.

His pocket vibrated and he swore as he dialed the number by heart. "Daddy!" Kalia yelled into the phone. There was nothing like his little princess to bring him back from any shadows, her voice was the light at the end to any of his tunnels. Stephen asked her about school and laughed as his miniature reiterated the lesson on the colors and their meanings.

"Yes, I know about the cupcakes! I didn't forget!" he smiled into the phone, eyes closed to imagine his little girl bouncing her legs on the chair at Caroline's house as she spoke. "I love you, my little goddess," he repeated for the millionth time in his life. Holder would never quit telling his daughter that he loved her, even when she rolled her sassy brown eyes at him.

Sarah was ready to go, antsy, fiddling with her napkin. "Where to, boss?" Stephen extended his hand to her, craving her touch. There wasn't any part of Linden that Holder didn't want; the guilt, the opportunities, the feel of her body pulled against his. Refusing to release her hand, he drew circles into her palm with her thumb. They would conquer their demons together. Together, they made sense, even when they didn't.

* * *

**Thanks for sticking around! I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing it! I miss this show!  
**


End file.
